


This New Song

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past rape (Ramsay), Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, petyr lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: A Petyr/Sansa short fic set in seasons 7 and 8.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I confess that don’t like Petyr and Sansa’s storyline from season 5 on. That’s why my previous fic (Night) is set in season 4, but after learning how the show ends, I needed to write this. It will be a short story (it will probably have 2 or 3 chapters), and it’s dedicated to all the Petyr/Sansa shippers. Fortunately we have fanfiction. We can keep imagining, reading, writing and enjoying stories :-)
> 
> (English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes).

The snowflakes fell on her auburn hair as she looked at the horizon. She hadn’t put on her hood despite the low temperatures. She wanted the wind to slide under her clothes. She needed to feel the cold air against her skin. A tear ran down her face. She was finally in Winterfell with Arya, Jon and Bran. This was what she wanted, didn’t she? But this morning an event had turned her world upside down. 

This morning Bran had asked them to reunite with him in his chambers.

“I’ve had some visions concerning Littlefinger. You need to know,” he’d told them.

 _Littlefinger._ Sansa didn’t like it when people called Petyr by this nickname, and Bran’s ominous tone had made her shudder. _Littlefinger._ As she followed her siblings along the corridor, she’d hoped to be wrong, but unfortunately, her gut feeling had been right. 

The things Bran had told them... Sansa’s heart had sunk when she’d learned that Petyr had held a dagger to her father’s throat. “I did warn you not to trust me.” He’d murmured in his father’s ear. It felt like a nightmare.

Arya, Jon and Bran had agreed that he should die. Petyr. He had smuggled Sansa out of King’s Landing. He’d taught her how to play the game. He’d helped her build a snow castle. He’d kissed her. He’d prevented Lysa from pushing her through the Moon Door.

But he had also given her to the Boltons and put a dagger to his father’s throat.

Petyr. Littlefinger. Who was the man and who wore the mask? Was there any difference? Had Sansa been fooling herself all this time? Perhaps there was nothing genuine in him. Had his display of affection been false? When he’d caressed her hair, or pressed his lips to her forehead, or held her hands or kissed her mouth… Had he felt anything?

_Don’t you know by now how much I care for you?_

Sansa clenched her teeth to suppress a sob.

Arya’s words still echoed in her mind:

“He must die. We cannot spare his life after all the awful things he has done to our family. After all the awful things he has done to you, Sans.” 

*

Later Sansa stopped in front of his chamber and knocked on the door. Her knuckles hurt. Her fingers had become numb due to the cold.

“Come in.” Petyr’s voice sounded from the other side.

Sansa hurried to open it. She couldn’t allow herself to pause to take a breath, or else her resolver would falter. She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Petyr was sat at his desk, writing on a parchment, but as soon as he saw her, he set the quill in the bottle and rose to his feet. 

“Sansa. What happened? You look very pale.” He approached her. Before she could realize what was happening, he’d reached out and was holding her hands. A sigh escaped her lips. His skin was warm, and his touch felt heavenly. She knew that she should pull away. After what she’d learned, how could she like to be close to him, to feel his skin against hers? Petyr let out a gasp and squeezed her hands. “Seven Gods, sweetling. You’re freezing. How long have you been outside?”

Sweetling. The word brought a lump to her throat.

“Hours,” she answered after swallowing. “Since this morning.”

“Why?” Sansa you could get ill!”

“As if you cared.” She turned her face away.

“What?” His voice sounded surprised. His right hand moved to her chin. “Sansa, look at me.”

She obeyed. She didn’t know what she’d said that. She was certain that he didn’t care for her, but it was pointless to tell him. This wasn’t the reason why she was there anyway. She shouldn’t spend more time than necessary with him. 

His eyes looked worried. He studied his face as if searching for some clue about what was happening. 

“Why did you say that?” he asked softly.

Sansa breathed.

“Because it’s the truth, Petyr. But I came here to talk with you about something far more important.” She finally gathered the strength to pull her hands away.

“No, you cannot change the topic now. Not after saying that I don't care for you. Do you really think so?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” Why it hurt this much to admit it? “Now, are you going to listen to me, please?” 

“No until you listen to me." Petyr replied. "I care for you. So much. I thought you knew. You’re the only person I care for, Sansa.”

“You gave me to the Boltons.” The words slipped out of her mouth.

A pained expression crossed his face.

“I will never forgive myself for that,” he said, his tone husky. “Never. I wish I could undo the past.”

“But you can't,” she cut in.

He looked defeated.

“No. I can’t.”

She breathed deeply. This was being harder than she’d expected and the worst was still to come. Holding his gaze, she said:

“I’m here to ask you to leave.”

Her words had hurt him, she could tell.

“What? Sansa, what’s…”

“Bran has seen all the awful things you’ve done!”

Petyr froze. Sansa continued quickly:

“This morning he revealed his visions to us: Jon, Arya and me. My siblings want to conduct a trial. They… they want to condemn you to death.” She grabbed his arms. “You have no chances to survive this unless you leave.”

Petyr blinked as if waking up from a dream. His eyes stared into hers. His hands cupped her face, and Sansa allowed him to do so. She was focused on making him understand how serious the situation was.

“Petyr. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re going to die if you don’t leave Winterfell. You’re…” She couldn’t continue because his mouth claimed hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Her hands gripped his cloak. Petyr paused, though his lips continued pressed to hers. He was waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to continue. Sansa guessed he was remembering that day in the Godswood, when he had leaned in for a kiss and she’d put a hand on his chest to stop him. She hadn’t pushed him away, but her gesture had been enough. He’d stood still, his breath creating little clouds as he exhaled, and Sansa had felt his chest moving up and down. She’d wanted him to kiss her then, but her rational mind had prevented her from going on. If she’d stayed a little longer, perhaps she’d given in.

She would never know.

Several weeks had passed since then, and now Sansa didn’t want her rational mind to take control of the situation. This might be the last time they saw each other. The King of the Night and the White Walkers were coming. It was a matter of days that they arrived in Winterfell. She opened her mouth slightly, and Petyr took it as a sign to continue. His hands moved to her neck tenderly and his tongue slid between her lips. Their tongues had never touched before, and it felt wonderful. A moaned escaped her throat.

She shouldn’t be doing this. After all the things he’d done. After all the things she’d learned about him. _Don’t think._ She pushed those thoughts from her mind and caressed his temples. Petyr deepened the kiss, his movements slow and gentle.

She was glad that he had to leave. The thought popped into her mind. He would be far from there when The Night King and the White Walkers showed up. He wouldn’t witness the horrors of a new war and none of those creatures would harm him.

She shivered when Petyr buried his hands in her hair. Suddenly a sound traveled from her chest. At first, she didn’t realize what was happening, but then Petyr froze and pulled away. She couldn’t see his expression because his face was a blur. She blinked twice and felt something warm sliding down her cheeks. Tears.

“Shhh.” Petyr wrapped her arms around her body, drawing her close to him, and she didn't put up any resistance. She rested her face on his chest, confused. Her sobs had caught her off guard, but she couldn’t stop now. 

“Shhh. It’s alright. It's alright,” Petyr murmured caressing her back. His scent filled her nostrils. Mint and soap. A scent that had become familiar. A scent that perhaps she wouldn’t perceive anymore. He kissed her head, and she sobbed harder. “Shhh. I’m here. I’m here.”

Not for much longer. But this was the best option, wasn’t it? Sansa took a deep breath. Yes. Petyr must leave. She pulled away slowly and took another breath. She wiped her cheeks. Her eyes were sore, and she felt a light pressure around her temples. 

Petyr was looking at her. Sansa knew that he was waiting for her to say something. She should tell him to leave tonight and see him off, but when she opened her mouth, those weren’t the words she said.

“Why did you kiss me?”

The question startled them both. _What am I doing?_ Sansa asked herself.

Petyr swallowed and tilted his head.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Forget it.” Sansa averted her gaze.

“No.” He took a step forward. Now his cloak was almost brushing against hers.

Sansa sighed and met his eyes. She was tired.

“Look,” she said. “I guess you were just trying to make sure that I didn’t change my mind.”

“Do you really think the kiss was a persuasion technique?” His surprise seemed genuine.

“That’s what you do, right? Persuading others to do what you want.”

He looked hurt.

“That’s… that’s not what I was doing.” His voice sounded husky. "I know that I broke your trust. I know that I made a terrible decision, and what happened will always haunt me. But I’m not trying to persuade you to do anything.” His hand moved to caress a strand of her hair. “I kissed you for the same reason you asked me to leave.”

Her breath hitched when she heard that. No, he couldn’t mean…

Petyr moved his hand away from her hair and put a finger to her lips.

“I won’t ask you to say it aloud,” he said softly. “It’s alright.”

Sansa remained quiet. She didn’t know what to say. She had never allowed herself to delve into her feelings for him.

“But I won’t go,” he added pulling his hand away.

“What?” Her heart pounded faster. “Have you heard any of what I said? Arya, Jon and Bran want to conduct a trial, and they will condemn you to death! You must leave tonight!”

He smiled gently.

“I heard every word you said, sweetling, but I cannot leave now. The King of the Night and his army are coming. I know I’m not a warrior, but I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you survive.”

She was touched by her words, but she couldn’t agree that he stayed. She grabbed his arms and looked him in the eye.

“Petyr, listen to me. You won’t be able to protect me. You’ll be dead before they arrive. Please, please, please. You must leave.”

He opened his mouth, and Sansa knew he was going to protest, so she didn’t let him speak.

“Please, Petyr.” She swallowed when she felt a lump in her throat. “I… I can’t lose more people.” Her voice faltered. “I can’t.”

“Sansa…” He swallowed too and touched her cheek. She leaned into the touch and closed her eyes. She heard him breathing out. Was he reconsidering his decision? She hoped so. He needed to get to safety. She opened her eyes again and met his gaze. The iris of his eyes looked greener. Petyr exhaled again and pulled his hand away. Sansa straightened up. What if he refused once more? What if she didn’t manage to persuade him? 

Petyr put his hand inside his cloak and took out a dagger. No, not a common dagger. The valyrian steel dagger. Sansa remembered the day he had helped her escape from King’s Landing. After she’d gotten on his ship, he’d taken off the necklace from her neck and crushed one of the gems. Sansa hadn’t flinched or taken a step back when she’d seen the weapon, and now she didn’t do so either. She’d never been afraid of him.

Petyr smiled and grabbed the dagger by the blade. Then he held out the handle. 

“I want you to have it,” he told Sansa. “It’s one of the few weapons that can kill the Night Walkers.”

She tilted her head with a questioning look on her face.

“Does this mean that you’re going to leave?”

Petyr sighed.

“Yes. But I hope this isn’t goodbye forever.”

Sansa smiled, tears dampening her eyes.

“It won’t be.” She took the dagger. “I… I can send you a letter when the battle ends, if you like.”

“I’d like it so much.” He wiped her tears with his thumb. “You’ll be a great queen, my love.”

Sansa blinked, trying to clear her vision, and let out a shaky laugh. A queen. She didn’t know if this would be possible but if so, she’d do her best. She’d be kind and fair. She didn’t want people to fear her. She loved her home. 

“If I’m Queen in the North, would you like to be my Hand?” she asked, her tone hesitant. Perhaps he had other goals.

Petyr leaned forward, and she hurried to put the hand holding the dagger behind her back so he couldn’t get injured accidentally. He smiled then, noticing her gesture and stopped once his lips were brushing against hers.

“That’s the picture I’ve dreamed of,” he murmured.

Sansa beamed and closed her eyes when he kissed her sweetly. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, kissing him back, and hoped they could make this picture reality.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I know I said this chapter would be Petyr/Sansa's first time, but two new scenes popped into my mind, so I've decided to make this story a little longer. I hope you enjoy this chapter :-)

No one escorted Sansa to the Great Hall.

The castle looked like an uninhabited place when she stepped out of her chambers. Her footsteps broke the silence. It was noon, but the sky had turned gray and the light was dull, as if night were falling.

If someone saw her passing by the windows from the courtyard now, they could believe she was a ghost, her black cloak dragging on the floor, her face impassive and her auburn hair down her back.

Her cloak covered her dress completely. Sansa had wanted it this way, and it wasn’t due to the cold. The dress was new; she was secretly hoping to give someone a surprise. 

She’d started sewing it two weeks ago, the day after The Night King was defeated, and she’d finished it last night. She’d spent several hours each night sewing it, even though fatigue had hit her often. They had been very intense days. Sansa and the other survivors had been treating the wounded and repairing some areas of the castle that had been damaged. There was still much work to do, but they would accomplish it, she was certain. Winterfell had seen many horrors, and now it was going to reborn like a phoenix.

Her maid hadn’t said a word about the dress while she’d helped Sansa put it on this morning, but Sansa had been able to tell by her expression that she’d expected something more classic. Probably a monochromatic outfit in a subdued color. But Sansa wanted to wear something special during her coronation. That’s why she’d sewed an embroidery dress in shades of brown and gray with a white patch in the center of each sleeve. 

Sansa had stood in front of the mirror after her maid had left. Her eyes had traveled over her dress, admiring the optical illusion that the shades of brown and gray created. Slowly she’d spread her arms and twirled around. The sight had brought a smile to her face.

The sleeves looked like the wings of a mockingbird.

*

Sansa didn’t falter when she entered the Great Hall. It was crowded, but she didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She didn’t know whether he would be there. She’d sent him the letter the same night the Knight King had been killed, but it might have passed several days before he’d received it. Perhaps he was still on his way to Winterfell.

 _The only thing that matters is that he comes back safely_ , she reminded herself as she headed towards the throne. People bowed as she passed by them. 

Her eyes didn’t wander around the room when she finally sat on the throne. This is real, she though as she stared at the doors. Sansa wished she could share this moment with Arya and Jon, but they both had left in the early morning. Arya had gone with Gendry to explore the world and have adventures, while Jon was in search for a place to start a new life. Sansa would miss them, but she’d respected their decision to leave. She wished for their happiness and knew they wouldn’t find it here. Arya and Jon were very different from her.

Memories of her childhood flashed through her mind as the ceremony took place. Those walls had witnessed many things, some happier than others, but right now Sansa only focused on the good ones.

_The games she played with her siblings, the tales her mother told her at night, the times her father carried her on his back while he sang a song to make her laugh._

Good memories, indeed. And there were others. Many others.

Sansa barely felt when someone place the crown on her head, but the voices brought her back to the present: 

Queen in the North! Queen in the North! Queen in the North!

Sansa blinked. Queen. When she was a kid, she’d thought her older brother would be the king. Robb. He’d been kind and honorable. Sansa had admired him since she was a little girl and now she was going to honor his memory, and her parents’ memory too. She would be a good queen.

She allowed herself to look around the room for the first time. The warriors had raised their swords as they chanted: 

Queen in the North! Queen in the North! Queen in the North! 

Her eyes kept wandering around the room, searching. It’s alright, he hadn’t been able to be here, she was telling herself when her heart skipped a beat.

He was beside a fireplace, among several warriors. The light flames made his mockingbird pin shine. A warm feeling spread across her chest. He’d managed to arrive in time. Petyr had a proud smile on his face, and this grew wider when their eyes met. Sansa smiled too. He bowed his face.

The chants sounded much sweeter now.

*

After the ceremony ended, Sansa stood up and headed towards the door. This time she made eye contact with several people as she walked and exchanged smiles. Wherever she looked, she only saw happy faces. She hoped it lasted long. The happiness. They all deserved it.

As she came closer to the spot where Petyr was, she met his gaze and nodded at him, asking silently to accompany her. He understood and was glad to comply. This scene had repeated several times in the past: they walking together. However, now it was even better because the Long Night was over, and she hadn’t to disguise anymore or make secrets plans in order to regain Winterfell.

Sansa didn’t say a word once he started walking beside her nor did she speak when they left the Great Hall. She just enjoyed his silent presence. Now that the ceremony had ended, she felt more at ease, and she was looking forward to the night celebration. There was going to be a banquet and music. Sansa looked at Petyr from the corner of her eye. She was excited to dance with him. Hopefully he would want to.

She led him to the courtyard and stopped in the center. The ground and the stone parapet that surrounded the well were covered by snow. She turned to him. He looked very elegant and there was a special sparkle in his eyes. He looked expectant. Of course, he didn’t know why she had brought him here. Sansa smiled. She wanted to run her fingers through his temples, but she didn’t do so. Instead, she hugged him.

Petyr jumped slightly, taken aback by her action, but he didn’t pull away. Sansa waited for his body to relax again before resting her cheek on his chest. She heard him sigh and soon his arms were wrapped around her body. 

Sansa had been wanting to hug him she’d seen him in the Great Hall, but she’d preferred to wait until they were alone. The people in Winterfell must get used to his presence from now on, and Sansa wasn’t going to hide. She wasn’t embarrassed about enjoying his company. However, she also wanted to enjoy some moments with him in private.

She pulled away, smiling, and held his hands. Petyr squeezed them. They both were wearing gloves. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here, sweetling.”

Her smile broadened.

“Do you remember that day in the Eyrie when you found me making a snow castle?”

“Of course. You looked like a nymph, with the sun reflecting on your auburn hair, your cheeks flushed and the small snowflakes falling on your head and cloak.”

Sansa tilted her head, blushing slightly. A sentence he'd told her then came to her mind. _I’m kissing a snow maid._

“Living in The Eyrie wasn't easy," she told him. "I missed my home so much. That day it was snowing in The Vale, and seeing the snow falling brought back some memories. I thought that perhaps making a small copy of the Winterfell castle would comfort me, but soon I realized that molding the snow wasn’t an easy task. I tried hard and I had finally managed to build part of the walls when I saw you coming. At first, I feared that you might break them. That’s… that’s what Joffrey would have done. Even Robin.” She paused and looked him in the eye.

Petyr remained silent for a moment. He didn’t seem offended but sad.

“Yes, that’s what they would have done,” he said finally. “Joffrey was a monster, and Robin was so pampered that he could be cruel sometimes. But I swear that idea never crossed my mind. You were so lovely, and you looked at peace. You were enjoying a moment of tranquility, away from Lysa and Robin. I would have never done anything to ruin it, let alone such a cruel thing.”

“I believe you,” she assured him and leaned forward to press her lips to his. Petyr was capable of many things to get what he wanted, but he'd never been cruel to her unlike Joffrey. _Stop thinking of him_ , she told herself. The Lannisters couldn't hurt her anymore. It was time to focus on the present. She motioned to the ground, a new smile appearing on her face.

“Would you like to help me build another castle, my lord?”

The smile he gave her reached his eyes.

“Gladly. _My queen._ ”

The tone of voice dropped an octave when he said these two words, and it sent shivers down her spine. Sansa licked her lips.

They kneeled on the ground.

“I guess we’ll have to change our cloaks for the banquet,” she said grabbing a handful of snow.

“A banquet?” Petyr asked as he started to mold the snow. His tone sounded cheerful.

“Oh, yes, and there will be music too.” She looked at him and couldn’t help but blush.

Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Go on, sweetling. You can tell me what you’re thinking.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

She bit her upper lip, feeling her cheeks even warmer. 

“I was thinking of the dance.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you know it, but I love dancing. When I was a child, my parents used to celebrate the beginning of Spring and Summer. They invited thousands of people, and the night always ended with a ball. That was my favorite part by far. Tonight’s celebration will be less ceremonial, but I wanted to ask you if you’d like to dance with me.”

His face brightened.

“Very few things would please me more, Sansa. Yes, of course, I’d love to dance with you.” He lowered his voice as if talking to himself: “I still cannot believe this is happening. Winterfell is yours. You’re Queen in the North.”

“Yes.” She dropped the snow she’d grabbed earlier and touched his arm. “And Winterfell is your home now, Petyr. I know you don’t feel it this way yet, but I hope you can learn to love it eventually. You’re safe here, I promise. No one will try anything against you. The past is gone for good, as you once told me. We can build a home together, if you like. I… I want you to be happy.”

She meant every word. She wasn't going to let anyone harm him. She hoped they could create good memories together that helped erase the bad ones.

“I think I’ve already started to love this place,” he whispered, and Sansa saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

She touched his chin, and he closed his eyes, as if wanting to save this moment forever.

“Petyr.”

He opened his eyes immediately.

“Yes?”

There’s something else I want to say.”

“Of course.”

She took a deep breath.

“You have your own chamber and that will never change, but I was wondering if you’d like to sleep with me from now on.” Her heart pounded harder. “I… I honestly don’t know if I’m ready to do anything else for now, but I’d like to share the bed with you. I like to feel you close. But of course, I don’t want you to feel obliged to accept. If you prefer to sleep in you chamber, that’s alright, I promise.”

“Sansa.” He smiled tenderly. “You’ve just asked me something very special, and I cannot express how happy I am right now. We all are vulnerable while sleeping so the fact that you want to share your bed with me means that you trust me.” 

“I trust you,” she said without hesitation, caressing his chin.

He brought her hand to his lips.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to hear those words, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two new scenes that popped into my mind are this conversation in the snow and the dance that will take place in the next chapter :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with a sensitive topic. Please, read the tags.

Laughter filled the dining room. Sansa’s eyes traveled across the other tables, pleased to see so many happy faces. The chandeliers flickered every time someone breathed too close to them or slapped the table edge as they talked cheerfully. Everybody seemed to be enjoying the banquet, and they deserved it. They had fought hard to make Winterfell a safer place.

Sansa turned her face to the left and exchanged a smile with Petyr. They were sat next in the back of the room. Behind them there was a large embroidered wall tapestry depicting a forest. Among the trees and brushes, you could see some white silhouettes. The end of a tail. Pointed ears among the leaves. Snouts. At the top of the trees you could also distinguish some feathers and beaks.

Petyr and Sansa were the only ones sat at this table. As Sansa had expected, no one had greeted Petyr warmly, but no one had looked down on him or said something offensive either, and she considered it a triumph. So long as no one lose their control, they’d be alright.

When the servants entered the room carrying dozens of trays with lemon cakes piled up in the form of towers, Petyr turned to Sansa, raising an eyebrow with amusement, and she giggled.

“There are so many guests, Petyr,” she said to justify the large number of lemon cakes.

He leaned closer, the playful look still on his face.

“Of course, sweetling. So many guests that it was absolutely necessary to order towers of lemoncakes taller than a person. Uhmm?”

“You’re exaggerating!” She gave him a gentle tap on his shoulder.

“Am I?” He moved his eyebrows up and down quickly. His expression was ridiculous, and Sansa laughed harder. Petyr looked delighted by her reaction. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m very happy right now,” she said reaching for his right hand. The celebration was perfect so far, and the night had just started.

He interlaced his fingers with hers and smiled contently. 

They thanked the servant when he set a tray on the table. Neither Petyr nor Sansa could see his face until then, because the lemon cakes had been hiding it. Petyr looked at Sansa with amusement once more, and she rolled her eyes, biting back a new laughter. 

She took a lemon cake and bit a small amount.

“Hmm.” She closed her eyes as the cake melted in her mouth. It tasted sweet and intense at the same time.

“How is it?” She heard Petyr asking.

“Delicious.”

He took a lemon cake too. Sansa knew he preferred salty foods over sweet, but he’d told her once that lemon had become one of his favorite flavors. 

“You’re right sweetling. It’s delicious.”

Sansa ate two lemon cakes more as Petyr observed her enraptured. His expression was stirring something inside her lower belly. She wanted to kiss him, but she was too conscious of the other people in the room.

At the end of the banquet, everyone stood up and raised their cups. They toasted the end of The Long Night and the beginning of a new era. Sansa locked her eyes with Petyr’s as she took the first sip. Yes, a new era had just begun. The future looked brighter than a few weeks ago. 

She set the cup on the table, and Petyr did the same.

“Ready to dance, my lord?” Sansa asked him. She liked to call him my lord, and she could tell that he loved to hear her saying those words. She remembered the days when she called him Lord Baelish. Several years had passed since then but it felt like centuries. Sansa felt as if she was a different person now. The girl that believed in songs and courtly love tales belonged in the past, but that wasn’t a bad thing necessarily. Thinking about the girl she was once didn’t make her feel sad anymore. 

Petyr’s eyes shone, and he held out his hand.

“Yes. My queen.”

Sansa shivered. The tone of voice he used to say those words… He managed to make them sound alluring. Sansa wanted him to say them again, but she didn’t ask him to do so. Instead, she took his hand.

They were the first to leave the dining room and head to the ballroom. The others would follow them shortly after.

The musicians were waiting for them in the back of the ballroom. Sansa smiled at them and then looked around. All the fireplaces were lit, and it was warm. She led Petyr to a corner where there were several armchairs. Only then she let go of his hand. He tilted his head, a questioning look on his face.

“I think it’s too hot to wear a cloak,” she said, and the corner of her mouth curved up.

“Is it?” he asked playfully. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, but that was expected.

She smiled and began to unfasten her cloak. She’d been wanting to show him her dress since the coronation, but she’d thought this would be the perfect moment. He would be the first person to see it apart from her maid. Sansa couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Petyr was still looking at her. He knew that something was about to happen, and his expression was curious. Good. Her hands finished unfastening her cloak.

“Close your eyes,” she told him.

Petyr obeyed. She waited a few seconds to make sure that he kept his eyes closed. She didn’t want him to see her dress yet. She took her cloak off and left it on an armchair.

“You can open them now.”

He did so. The playful look disappeared from his face gradually as he stared at her dress. He blinked.

“What…?”

Sansa giggled and spread her arms.

“Look, Petyr.”

She twirled around just like she’d done in front of the mirror in her chamber. When she stood still again, she saw his mouth was slightly open. He didn’t react when she took his hands. 

“What do you think? Do you like it?” 

“Sansa.” Petyr swallowed. “You… You made…”

“A dress that looks like a mockingbird?” She grinned. “Yes. At least, that was my intention when I sewed it. I’ve never seen a real mockingbird so I could be wrong. I only saw some pictures in nature books, apart from this one, of course” she said touching his silver pin. “I could never forget about this one.” 

“Sansa…” He swallowed again, and she knew he was touched. She leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m glad you like it,” she whispered in his ear.

He breathed out and Sansa pulled away, smiling. She’d been hoping this dress would be special for him too and it was awesome to realize that it was. 

Petyr looked at her in the eye, still dazed.

“May I?” His hand stopped a few inches from her waist.

“Yes,” she said giving him an encouraging smile. She wanted him to touch her.

Petyr ran his fingertips over her waist, lightly, as if fearing he might ruin the fabric. He traced the patterns, the shades in brown and gray, and Sansa shivered. 

“Feathers,” he murmured.

“Yes.” She smiled once more.

The sound of voices startled them. Petyr’s hand stopped, but he didn’t pull it away from her waist. Sansa averted her eyes from him and saw that people were entering the room. The moment she’d shared with Petyr had just ended. She wished it had lasted longer, but she was also looking forward to dancing. They would have more opportunities to be alone. Tonight, for example. Her heart fluttered when she pictured herself sharing her bed with him. She’d told him the truth in the courtyard. She liked to feel him close. She felt safe with him, and both his presence and his touch made her body react in a wonderful way. She wanted to experience what making love was, and she knew she could experience it with him. She wanted to experience it with him. She knew she could only share something so intimate, so special, with him, and she wanted to try tonight.

Soon everybody was in the room, and some of them looked at her. The musicians wouldn’t start to play until Sansa told them to do so.

“Ready to dance, lord Baelish?” She turned to him.

“Oh, yes.” 

Silence fell over the ballroom as they walked towards the center of the room, holding their hands. Sansa wondered what they were thinking about them. Had the people in Winterfell expected Petyr to become her Hand? Did they know he was more than just her Hand? They must know by now. They all had witnessed how she’d left the Great Hall with him after the coronation and they’d also seen their displays of affection at the banquet: Sansa had touched his arm and reached for his hand several times, and Petyr had caressed her hair and kissed her knuckles. 

Whatever they thought, Sansa didn’t care. This has become one of the best days of her life and no one would ruin it, not even the memories of those who had hurt her in the past. _Don’t. Don’t think of them. Don’t think of him._ She wasn’t going to let any painful memories enter her mind. She was safe now. She breathed out and nodded at the musicians.

The music began. Bagpipes, dulcimers, gurdies and tabors. All of them were ancient instruments, and their sounds always captivated her. The music filled her mind, keeping the memories at bay. 

She turned to Petyr, and her dress brushed against his cloak. He hadn’t taken it off yet. He wasn’t used to the cold weather unlike her, but perhaps after a few dances he would need to take it off. The thought made her smile. 

“Your eyes are shining, my love,” Petyr said.

Her smile grew wider. She put her left arm on his shoulder, and he wrapped his right arm around her waist. His touch made her feel safe. She leaned forward and rested her face on his chest, not caring about who could be watching them. He didn’t move at first, but after some seconds, she felt his other hand on her head and heard his voice in her ear:

“Are you alright, love?” 

“Yes,” she whispered, comforted by his voice and the feeling of his body. She really liked to feel his body pressed against hers. She raised her face and saw concern in his eyes. “I’m alright, Petyr. Truly.” She gave him a smile.

He studied her face before smiling back. He kept his right arm wrapped around her waist and moved his left hand away from her head. Sansa took it and interlaced her fingers with his.

“Shall we dance?” 

His smile grew wider, and he nodded.

They started moving. At first, they were slow, their bodies getting used to the other’s movements. Sansa discovered that Petyr was a great dancer. He didn’t hold her too tightly, or pull her, or made sudden movements. His movements were elegant, and he didn’t seem to be making any effort. Sansa found it very easy to dance with him. And very enjoyable too. 

When the song ended, they stopped but continued staring into each other’s eyes. They heard some people applauding, and soon the musicians started another song. The tempo of this one was quicker. Petyr lifted up her hand and gave her a mischievous smile.

“Show me once more how lovely your dress is.”

Sansa grinned and twirled twice. She felt a faint breeze caressing her legs as she did. Her dress was still fluttering once she stopped, and there was a special sparkle in Petyr’s eyes. He pulled her closer and said in her ear:

“Beautiful.”

Sansa knew that now he wasn’t talking about the dress.

*

After several dances, Sansa asked Petyr if he wanted to go to her chamber. They both were breathing rapidly, and their faces were slightly flushed. The tempo of the last dance had been so quick that they’d gotten trouble keeping the pace. They had jumped, and twirled, and tapped their shoes. They had also laughed. So much. Petyr had taken off his cloak a while ago.

His eyes lit up, and he nodded. Sansa’s stomach fluttered as she took his hand. The rest of the people continued dancing as they left the ballroom.

Her chamber was warm when they stepped into. They hung their cloaks on the coat hanger, and then Petyr turned to her and paused. She saw he looked a little nervous.

“You probably want to change your clothes,” he said. “I’ll go to the adjoining room to give you some privacy.” He started walking towards the door, but Sansa grabbed his arm gently.

“Wait.”

He stopped and met her eyes. A mix of surprise and tenderness appeared on his face as he studied hers. She smiled. He must have though she would like to sleep now. But Sansa wasn’t tired. She felt full of energy and happy, very happy. The day had been just perfect. 

“I’d like to try, Petyr. I want to make love with you, if you want too.”

He opened his mouth letting out a small sigh and cupped her face.

“I want,” he said. “So much. But I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything.”

“I won’t,” she promised and leaned forward to kiss him. Petyr parted his lips and let her set the pace. Sansa smiled against his mouth and caressed the tip of his tongue. She felt him shiver, and her smile broadened.

When she pulled away, he swallowed, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Sansa.” His voice was filled with longing. He caressed her hair, and she closed her eyes. “Sansa. I need you to talk to me, alright? I need you to tell me how you’re feeling, what you want in every moment, what scares you or makes you uncomfortable. I want this to be a good experience.”

She opened her eyes and nodded. He smiled and continued caressing her head.

“Do you know what’s the best way to dispel the nerves? To make them go away?”

“What’s the best way, my lord?”

He moved his other hand to her waist, and his eyes shone mischievously.

“To laugh, sweetling. Laughter dispel the nerves and keep them at bay. And you know? I’m determined to make you laugh tonight.”

“Oh, is it so, my lord? And how do you intend to do it?”

He tilted his head, feigning seriousness, and his hand started moving up and down.

“Well, I’m a resource man, sweetling. I could use different tactics. People say I have a way with words, and certainly I could use that to my advantage right now.” He smirked. “Or I could make funny faces. It would be a less refined tactic, but it might work.”

Sansa bit back a laugh.

“Yes, it might work.”

He looked pleased with her answer and continued:

“But I’m also a wicked man, sweetling, and wicked men don’t play fair.”

“What do you…? She couldn’t finish her sentence because his hand started tickling her ribs. “Petyr!” She laughed and laughed until her sides ached, and Petyr observed her delighted. 

When she calmed again, he hugged her, and she sighed contently. 

“Thank you,” she said when she pulled away.

He kissed her sweetly.

“No need to thank me, sweetling. I love the sound of your laughter.”

She smiled. They remained in silence for a little while, staring into each other’s eyes, until Petyr asked softly:

“What thoughts are crossing your mind now?”

“I’d like us to undress,” she told him.

“Alright.” He caressed her cheek, his expression tender.

“But you need to know something first.”

“Of course. You can tell me anything, love.”

Sansa breathed deeply.

“I have several scars across my belly and my legs.”

His expression didn’t change. He waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he asked:

“Does the idea of me seeing your scars make you uncomfortable? Do you fear that I might feel disgusted?”

She took a moment to reflect on his question. She’d pictured the moment when he would see her bare several times in her mind, and that had made her heart flutter in anticipation, but until then she hadn’t wanted to think of the fact that he would also see her scars.

“I think the answer is yes,” she said finally.

He let out his breath and pressed his lips to her forehead. The kiss made her feel warm inside and helped assuage her doubts. When he looked her in the eye again, he spoke vehemently: 

“Thank you for telling me. I can imagine it hasn’t been easy to say it aloud. But you don’t have to fear my reaction, Sansa, I swear. I might feel anger or pain when thinking of the things you had to endure, but never disgust. Please, you must believe me.”

“I believe you.” She cupped his face and kissed him once more. The kiss become more urgent, as their tongues explored each other, and his hands moved to her back when she pressed herself against him. Soon she felt his erection, and it didn’t repulse her. Quite the contrary. Heat spread across her lower body, and she started to feel a wetness between her legs.

They helped undress each other and lay on the bed, and Petyr kissed every scar of her body, one by one, slowly, tenderly. He met her eyes often, gauging her reaction, and she smiled at him every time. 

“Petyr.” She sat up when he finished and traced his scar with her fingertips. A hint of vulnerability came into his eyes, and something tied around her throat when she noticed it. It was also the first time he showed her his scar, the physical reminder of when he was a boy who dreamed of heroes and songs, who fancied himself prince of fireflies. They had that in common. They weren’t very different when they were younger, and Sansa wondered what if they’d met back then. What if she had been of his age, and their paths had crossed before they discovered that life wasn’t a song. She would never know. What she knew was they had been granted an opportunity to be happy, and she was willing to take it. She caressed his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Petyr. We won.” 

He opened his eyes and moved his head to kiss her wrist. Sansa giggled when his facial hair tickled her skin.

“That tickles.”

Petyr’s eyes shone with amusement. She lay down again and he peppered kisses along her jaw, her neck and her belly, making her shiver and laugh at the same time. The wicked expression appeared on his face again.

“I told you I could use different tactics to make you laugh, sweetling.”

“You haven’t made funny faces yet,” she replied breathless.

He moved his eyebrows up and down quickly, and Sansa giggled. She would have never imagined that she could feel this relaxed. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The corners of his mouth curved up before he brushed his lips against hers. Sansa took his hand and put it on her right breast, and Petyr paused. He tilted his head back to look at her, his eyes silently asking her to tell him what she wanted.

“I want you to touch me, Petyr.”

His hand started massaging her breast, and she sighed.

He kissed her earlobe.

“How does it feel, sweetling?”

“Wonderful.”

She felt his smile against her neck. 

They continued kissing and touching each other. Petyr was attentive and he continued encouraging her to tell him how she felt and what she needed. Sansa discovered that expressing her desires and emotions made her feel much more relaxed.

Sighs and moans and laughter filled her chamber until Sansa hugged him and told him she was ready. She lay down, looking him in the eye. Petyr was kneeling on the bed, and he didn’t move. She spread her legs and felt a knot in her stomach, but it wasn’t caused by fear. He smiled softly and caressed the back of her hand.

“Alright. Tell me what I should do now, sweelting.”

She smiled too.

“I’d like you to settle between my legs. Slowly, please. Afterwards I might need a few moments before continuing.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” 

Sansa breathed out once he was settled between her legs. His erection was pressed against her thigh, and it didn’t scare or repulse her. His skin was warm, and he wasn’t crushing her. She felt safe.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

“Yes.” She put her hands on his shoulders.

“Tell me how you felt in the ballroom.”

Sansa smiled remembering it.

“I felt beautiful. And fearless,” she told him.

“That’s how you should always feel. You have nothing to fear, I promise. We can stop at any moment. You’re so strong and beautiful, and nothing will change that. You were right, my love: We won.”

“We won,” she whispered.

Later, when she asked him to continue, he entered her slowly, so slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was finally inside her, he stopped, and Sansa breathed out. She didn’t feel any pain, but the pressure was slightly uncomfortable. She trembled a little and ran her hands through his temples.

“Talk to me, Petyr.”

His eyes flickered with understanding and he hurried to comply. 

“This has become one of the best days of my life, sweetling.”

She smiled, her hands caressing his grey hair.

“It has also become one of the best days of my life, Petyr.”

“But I still cannot believe that you told the cook to make thousands of lemon cakes.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Petyr!” She let out a laugh, grateful that he’d known how to erase the tension of her body. Her inner walls clenched involuntary as she laughed, and she saw that Petyr’s eyes half-closed and a soft moan escaped his throat.

She smiled, loving his reaction, and she did again, this time on purpose.

“Oh, Sansa.”

“Is this pleasurable, Petyr?” she asked grinning.

“Oh, yes.”

She asked him to move, and soon a ticklish sensation spread across her body. 

“Petyr.” She wrapped her arms around his body and started meeting his thrusts. He nibbled her earlobe and her jaw, panting, and she’d never though she could feel something so intense and wonderful.

Later, after relief spread across their bodies and their breathing return to normal, he kissed her throat and her forehead and pulled out carefully.

“Are you alright?” Petyr asked studying her face.

“More than alright. Everything has been perfect.” She hugged him.

He sighed in relief.

“I’m glad, sweetling.”

She smiled against his chest, knowing she’d just assuaged his worries. She was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. She knew she was going to rest well. She wanted to hear his laughter once more before falling asleep, so she added: “And you know? We still have lemon cakes to spare.” 

As she’d expected, Petyr chuckled, and it was the perfect sound to end a perfect day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions. I hope this story can be comforting after what happened in the show <3


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